A Rose By Any Other Name
by uekibachi
Summary: (shounen ai - Youji x Omi) Youji and Omi's love will last forever... or will it?


  
He loved watching him sleep...he was so peaceful.  
The serene picture he made, lying there on his bed  
brought a smile to Balinese's lips...perhaps  
his mother should have named him Shizuka instead  
of Omi. He lay on his side, his hand resting on  
his pillow next to his face...his sad face, Youji noted, his smile fading.  
Golden strands of hair swayed gently, moved by  
him warm breath. Balinese knelt before his  
bed, and bruhed a few soft strands away from his  
face. Careful not to wake him, he traced his finger  
across him cheekbone...he's lost weight, he told himself, angrily.  
To say Youji hated himself would be the  
understatement of the year. Utterly despised,  
loathed, detested--these adjectives draw us  
much closer to this man's feelings toward himself.  
  
**FLASHBACK**   
"I give up," he had told him in a quiet voice.  
"Excuse me?" he asked, not sure if he had heard correctly.  
"I give up," he repeated, looking at the ground  
in defeat as he spoke. "You keep telling me you  
don't love me--I don't want to believe it, but I  
guess it's true. After all, why would you lie to  
me? So, I'm giving up. I release you, Youji--forever."  
  
He couldn't move. He couldn't think. He couldn't speak.   
Giving up? Why was he giving up? He can't  
do that! He loved him! He needed him! But this  
was what he wanted, wasn't it? Wasn't it?!  
  
He looked up into his confused eyes, trying  
to hide the tears in him own as he smiled a  
very genuine and very sweet smile. "Have a nice day, Youji. You'll have a friend  
in me if you ever need one."With that, he planted a warm kiss on his  
cheek, and walked away.  
**END FLASHBACK**   
  
Youji's heart literally ached at the remembrance  
of that sweet, sweet smile he had donned just for  
him. It was like a breath of fresh air and a cold slap  
in the face at the same time. The smile was what did  
him in. It woke him up. It told him exactly how much Omi truly loved him.  
This was the least he could do.  
Reaching into his jacket, Balinese pulled out a  
book. He held it hesitantly for a moment, unsure whether or not to part with it.  
This is right, he told himself. He needs to know.  
Careful not to wake the slumbering boy, he placed  
the book and a thornless-rose on him pillow and  
under him hand. Gently leaning over him, he tenderly  
kissed Omi's temple--something he hadn't done in  
far too long. He felt him shutter slightly under his lips,  
and pulled the covers up hig him to warm him.  
Before departing, he whispered in him hair, "I love  
you, Omi. More than you'll ever know."  
  
Omi moaned softly, suddenly feeling very warm  
and comfortable. "Youji-kun?" he mumbled in  
a state of somnambulism. Him eyes slowly openedand looked around the room.  
Nothing."Must have been dreaming..." Omi spoke softly,  
still half asleep. He subconsciously held the rose  
that had been placed under his hand. He smiled  
as it's scent gently fanned his face.  
"Wait a second..." Omi forced his eyes open,  
and stared at the rose and the book, not fully  
comprehending what they were for a momentor two. He sat up quickly.  
"Youji?" he asked, looking around for  
the older man. He clutched the rose as he  
stumbled to his open window. Looking outside  
hopefully, he was disappointed to be met only  
by the gaze of the moon...nothing else.  
"Youji-kun..." he whispered brokenly. The tears  
he cried weren't the first ones he'd cried today--he had  
wept a good portion of the evening after his encounter  
with Youji. His head told him to move on...get  
over him...get a life...get a new guy. But his heart urged him to never give up.  
Today had been the first day he had listened to his  
head instead of his heart, and it hurt like nothing he had ever felt before.  
"I release you, Youji--forever."  
The words played over and over in his head. Part of  
him hated himself for saying them, but part of him told  
him it was for the best. Wiping away hot tears, the  
tired Omi returned to his bed, and once again spotted  
the book on his pillow. In his rush to the window, he  
hadn't really paid much attention to it.  
What was it anyway? It was definitely from Youji,  
he was sure of that. Who, but him would climb into his  
bedroom leaving roses? Omi scowled, hoping the book  
wasn't something harsh--like "How To Get Over Your  
Boyfriend," or "Ten Steps To Overcoming Infatuation."  
He picked it up from his pillow and ran his fingers  
down the front, admiring the craftsmanship. The book  
was leather--the expensive kind-- its musky smell  
drifted up to Omi and he breathed deep of it.  
Turning on a lamp beside him bed, Omi squinted to  
read the text printed on the cover. A confused look  
came over him features as him fingers traced the goldletters on the front.  
Dream Journal. Dream Journal? Omi wondered. Why would he  
give me this? Maybe it wasn't from Youji  
after all. Opening the front cover, and glancing  
over the handwritten pages struck that idea. It was  
clearly Youji's handwriting. Still openly confused,  
Omi opened the book, hoping to figure out what he was up to.  
The inscription on the inside cover was transcribed  
in a loving and controlled penmanship...the writing  
of a teacher, or close friend.  
It read:"July 16th, 1988. To my favourite  
little boy. Sweet dreams, Youji, and don't forget me."  
  
No name followed the inscription, sparking  
curiosity in Omi. He turned to the first page,  
his gaze falling upon the first journal entry. Thime  
he found the careful scribblings of a child's first  
attempts at hiragana.  
"My mom said my dreams are the  
key to my soul--what that means, I can't say. Maybe one day, I'll  
understand, but until that day,this journal will be my new best friend."  
  
The journal entries went on to describe a typical  
child's dreams. Of carefree adventures through  
mysterious lands and dangerous extremes. Of  
dragons and knights. Of super heroes and  
damsels in distress. Of distant lands where  
nobody ever died...especially parents.   
Even though the entries where clearly written  
by the hand of a little boy, Omi was startled  
at the maturity reflected in the words he read.  
More so, he was startled by the image of  
sadness and unsatisfaction with life that arose  
from Youji's journal. Brief mentions of his  
life at the orphanage were made here and there,  
and the portrayal given of Youji's early "home"  
(if that's what you could call it) made anger rise in  
Omi's heart...followed shortly by compassion.  
Had it really been so hard on him? Had he always  
carried this air of sadness? Poor thing...  
The entries continued. Youji's words matured  
as he grew, and Omi could almost hear the  
coldness in his voice. He no longer spoke of  
adventures, or of a brighter future. It seems that  
those dreams had been crushed. The young boy  
had cratered. His nights were practically dreamless  
now, thus not many entries had been recorded  
during this time. But the dreams that were  
recorded, however, could hardly be called dreams.  
Never in his life had Omi experienced the type of  
nightmares described in this simple leather bound  
book. He prayed fervently that he never would.  
Tears fell unnoticed from his eyes as he read  
through every horrific detail during a very dark period of Youji's life.  
But one entry fell in stark contrast with the others.  
  
"An angel visited me tonight-- or maybe he was a prince.  
His beauty was beyond words, but somehow I could see his face.  
I couldn't seem to focus on his features, like his identity was  
being hidden from me. He stayed with me for a long time, stroking  
my hair. Before he left he kissed my forehead and whispered,  
'Everything is going to be all right, Youji-kun. I'm here now.' He  
called me 'Youji-kun'...as if we were lovers? Who is this  
boy? And if he's really 'herenow', then why do I still feel alone?"  
  
Omi's fingers traced over the hastily written  
words, which contained the most emotion  
Youji had revealed in his journal as of yet.  
He had dreamed of him. Of Omi.  
He remembered him mentioning the dreams  
before their... break up, but hadn't  
remembered the exchange until now. What a surprising revelation.  
The entries continued, and the coldness in Youji's voice vanished only when he  
spoke of his angel, whom he called "Koibito."  
He'd grown to cherish the boy who graced him  
in his dreams...perhaps he even loved him. But  
affections could only run so far with a figment  
of his imagination...a fact that made the growing  
man increasingly bitter. Wasn't there anyone out there who could love him?  
  
Omi smiled through his tears at the first  
mentions of Asuka, and surprisingly--of  
himself. Was it Omi's imagination, or did the entries reflect  
amusement rather than aggravation with him?  
Confusion entered Youji's entries soon  
after. His koibito appeared to him now in  
tears, begging for his love. He asked him over and over  
why he didn't remember him, confusing the young  
man beyond words. He admitted openly in  
the journal that he felt like a piece of him was missing. Indeed, it was.  
Omi was in his journal several times over the  
next few days. Frustrations had arisen in Youji  
when he felt attracted to him, but felt bound to the  
man in his dreams who cried out for him  
endlessly. He was torn between two men...only  
to find out soon that they were in actuality the same person.  
The coldness in his words seemed to fade a bit after  
he found this out. He had someone  
who cared for him now, and Youji didn't fail to  
articulate exactly how much he loved Omi, his  
koibito. His nights were now spent dreaming of  
him, and of their future. He had hope for a future now. But then things changed.  
  
"How can I be so selfish? Omi just found out about his family today. I don't want him to cry.. I want to hold him and protect him.... but... I can't ask him to stay. He doesn't need me like I need him. He needs a family... "  
  
That was the last journal entry.  
Omi closed the book slowly. He finally had his answer.-----  
  
He loved watching him sleep. Wavy strands of  
hair fell over Youji's eyes, hiding them from  
him loving gaze. Bombay knelt before him,  
and bruhed a few silky strands away from hisface.  
He pulled out a book...a special book a certain  
black attired man had given him. He hesitated briefly,  
running his fingers once more over the smooth  
leather covers that practically contained Youji'slife.  
Careful not to wake him, he placed the book  
and a white rose with a ribbon  
tied around it on his pillow. Gently leaning over  
him, he tenderly kissed Youji's temple--  
something he hadn't done in far too long. He  
felt him shutter slightly under him lips, and pulled  
the covers up higher to warm him.Before departing, he whispered in his hair, "I  
love you, Youji-kun. I'll never give up."  
Youji's eyes opened to see his curtains  
swaying slightly from the breeze that issued  
in from the open window. Funny, he didn't remember leaving that window open...  
He smiled when he saw the book and the rose. He knew now. Sitting up in his bed,  
Youji picked up the book and pressed the rose between its pages so that he could  
keep it forever. He placed the book under  
his pillow, where he had kept it for 11 years...  
ever since his mother had given it to him.  
After a second thought, he retrieved the book from under the pillow, and opened  
up to the last entry. It was time for a new one.  
Sitting back against his pillow, he began to  
write. The words had no bitterness, or coldness. Only love.  
  
"An angel visited me tonight--or maybe he was a prince..."  



End file.
